Denial
by Dianaprince89
Summary: Jane and Maura reach a crossroads when Maura saves Jane over a victim.
1. Chapter 1

Maura didn't know what to do.

Standing in the pouring rain outside of the Rizzoli house she'd never felt more helpless.

She rang the doorbell again, her familiarity with the family and her concern for Jane overriding the little voice in her head that said it was impolite to ring so many times in such a short period of time.

With baited breath she waited for the footsteps and shouting and general din of a Rizzoli coming to answer the door. But the house remained silent, looming over her in judgment the way Jane had done only hours before.

Idly, Maura wondered where the family was, why they were not at home taking care of Jane, but she quickly answered that question with two equally viable hypotheses.

Either Jane had not told them what happened, or she had told them and asked for quiet, which under the circumstances would be more than reasonable.

But Maura couldn't seem to respect Jane's wish for privacy. It seemed too closely aligned with a desire to hate Maura for the rest of her life. And Maura didn't know what to do about that.

Earlier, when Maura had tried to talk to Jane, the brunette detective's anger had been like a furnace, like an inferno. Maura had been burnt to the core and she thought she might never recover.

Still, she couldn't seem to let it go.

She couldn't seem to let Jane's righteous, and totally right, anger be the end of their friendship.

So when she heard Frost telling Frankie that Jane was heading to their family home, and on a tear, Maura filed the information away. She tried to talk to Jane, tried to call and text and even emailed her but Jane ignored her. Maura had to talk to her, had to try to explain, had to try and make her see. But…

Jane was nothing if not determined.

Her anger was a second skin and she wore it well.

Maura felt a bit of anger simmering but she was focusing all her energy on trying to find love inside herself, for fear of otherwise being forced to acknowledge the heartbreaking truth of it.

She had lost Jane today.

As a friend, a coworker, a _something more_ (a thing Maura rarely let herself consider, and even then only in the dark and very late at night).

One twist of fate and Jane was no longer hers.

Perhaps not a single twist of fate. More like a series of unfortunate occurrences.

After they had returned to the precinct hours ago, Maura had worked in an almost frenzied state. She had to wrap things up, had to keep her mind from processing the very personal, emotional toll the day had taken. She had kept up that frenetic pace until this moment, and now she was stalled on the doorstep of the Rizzoli family home.

In the holding pattern on the stoop, the torrential rain soaking her through in a matter of minutes, her carefully wound emotions began to unravel.

Fear threatened to consume her. Warred with an unbridled grief, the likes of which she'd never fathomed. Her entire body, her entire being, ached. She was physically exhausted, battered and bruised, but beyond that her soul was weary, wounded.

She was almost irrationally angry at the universe, at the world, at humanity. She was desperate, nearly feral.

The emotions swirling through her washed up on in her in an instant and crashed over her like a tidal wave, literally knocking her off her feet. She felt a horrific, wailing sob wrench from her throat and she collapsed against the door, blindly banging a fist on the wood.

There was no answer.

Maura had no clue how long she sat on the front step, rain pelting her skin, as her entire soul poured out and washed down the drain. Later, she'd realize it had to have been nearly an hour because when Angela found her it was almost dark outside.

"Dear God," Angela exclaimed. "Frankie! Get me some towels."

Frankie and Angela had just driven up and Angela hurried over, pulling Maura into her arms. Maura didn't resist, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Frankie hesitate, concern washing over his features, before he followed Angela's orders and hurried inside the house.

Angela held her, rocking her like a small child, for endless minutes, soothing with words and hands in a way Maura could barely stand. It was so good, so wonderful, but she didn't deserve it.

"Come inside," Angela's voice left no room for argument. "You'll catch your death out here." She pulled Maura up but didn't let go, the strong tether of her arm bringing Maura in out of the cold.

Inside, Frankie wrapped a towel around Maura's shoulders and Angela helped her out of her shoes. He proffered a t-shirt and some sweatpants.

"Better put these on, Maura," he coaxed, the concern in his eyes evoking an image of Jane so strong it sent a shudder of anguish through Maura.

"Thank you Frankie," Angela hovered over Maura with concerned eyes. "Why don't you go put on the kettle?"

Without asking, Angela ushered Maura into the bathroom and practically dressed her in the borrowed clothes. Maura felt like she was in a trance, like things were happening to her as she watched from a parallel universe.

"Not your usual style," Angela's voice was soft. "But it'll have to do."

Maura was led out to the family room, left alone on the couch with the TV playing softly in the background. Her eyes were unseeing as she thought of the betrayal on Jane's face and she jumped when Frankie came into the room. He took a seat on the couch, close enough to be comforting but still separating their bodies.

"Sorry," his voice was gruff. "Didn't mean to scare ya, Maura. I thought I'd see if you wanted a bit of company. Ma's convinced you need to eat something and I know better than to try n' stop her." His tone was light and his expression was honest, open, but Maura could see the intense seriousness in his eyes, see the concern and the curiosity.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, finally feeling shame wash over her at what was happening.

She had just been caught bawling on their doorstep in the pouring rain and they had brought her inside, welcomed her. They'd done it many times for her emotionally, brought her in from the cold, probably without realizing it.

But this time, Maura didn't deserve it.

She deserved to freeze to death out on the porch, if that's what it took, waiting for Jane to speak to her, or at the least to listen.

"Nothin' to be sorry about," Frankie shrugged. "Family is who you're supposed to turn to when things get rough."

Maura met his eyes and there was a hard determination in them, as if challenging her to say they weren't family.

"I know you and Janie are in the thick of some things I can't even pretend to understand," he continued. "But no matter what happens between the two of you, blood doesn't just bail when the shit hits the fan."

It was nice to feel the assurance radiating out of Frankie in waves but Maura's despair was bone deep. She needed to see Jane, needed to reassure herself that the other woman was warm and smooth and try to explain why she'd done what she had.

As if reading her mind, Frankie shook his head.

"She ain't here," he sighed. "She called a couple hours ago and said to leave her the hell alone, so naturally my Ma went rushing over, dragged me too 'cause she didn't want to drive in this rain. Anyhow, Janie didn't say a lot about what happened today but Frost filled me in on the bits she left out. I'm real sorry, Maura. For what happened to you today. I ain't made a decision like that before but kinda close, and I know how bad it eats you up."

Maura didn't correct Frankie's assumption. It wasn't the decisions she'd made that upset her- her calculations were accurate, her decisions were correct.

It was Jane's reaction that was affecting Maura.

Maura simply nodded and accepted the tissue box that Frankie held out. It was only then she realized she hadn't stopped crying.

Angela came in at that moment, a steaming mug in one hand and a plate of pastries in the other.

Accepting the mug, Maura clutched it, welcoming the burn against her palms.

The two Rizzoli's sat patiently, trying not to pressure her, and she knew they were waiting for _something_ from her.

"What if she never stops hating me," Maura whispered.

For a moment, she wondered if she'd actually said it out loud. But then Angela's hand was stroking through her hair and Maura's eyes fluttered closed. Frankie's body heat began to reach Maura.

"Hey," Angela's firm, motherly tone was soothing and sure. "Jane doesn't hate you."

"You didn't see the way she," Maura began to interrupt but she could vividly recall the look in Jane's eyes and it made the words in her throat wither against the onslaught of tears.

"I know Jane," Angela picked up where she'd left off. "She's angry. I don't know if she has a right to be angry or not because I don't know the details of what happened. But regardless, she burns hot and bright but then that anger burns away and all that's left is love. It's not in her character to hate the people she holds dear. She loves you Maura, she trusts you. It might take her a while to remember but you've gotta just keep reminding her."

Maura covered her face with her hands, holding back another wave of tears and this time an accompanying wave of nausea.

"The way she looked at me," Maura sobbed. "It was… I've never seen hatred like that, Angela. And I've looked serial killers straight in the eye."

"What happened today?" Angela asked, the concern in her voice barely masking the panic at Maura's description. "Frankie, maybe you should go back over to Janie-"

"No," Maura shook her head. "I need to go. I need to talk to her. I shouldn't have come here like this. I'm very sorry." She stood abruptly, looking around in a panic. Where were her clothes? Where were her shoes? Had she brought a purse? She must have had one at some point…

"Maura," Angela's voice was sharp. "What happened?"

Vivid, Technicolor images flooded Maura's mind but they were jumbled.

Jane was laughing, fingers grazing Maura's arm. There was yelling, smoke, so much confusion. A call over the radio, suspect fleeing a block from their lunch date.

Anyone around? Jane screaming, but Maura couldn't understand over all the thunder- no, it must have been the building collapsing; it hadn't started raining until much later.

Calculating, her scientific mind blocking out the external stimuli to compute odds. Emotional determinations were pushed aside as rational analysis took over.

"Maura," Angela was practically shaking her. "Tell me what happened today. Janie said there was a fire. She said a little girl died. What didn't she tell me?"

The words poured out of Maura then, in halted, stilted fragments. Her voice was low and hoarse.

"We were getting lunch," she said. "There was a suspect fleeing a nearby crime scene and Jane wanted to collar him; the dispatch officer said we were close and backup was on the way. We spotted the suspect without trouble and Jane followed him into an industrial warehouse and I called dispatch and they said backup was just a minute or two away. Then I saw young girl go into the building behind them. I'm… I'm not really sure what happened but suddenly there was a fire, likely a build-up of manufacturing waste products improperly stored in close proximity. I went in to help the girl and there was so much yelling and smoke and the stench was awful, a horrendous mix of tertiary butyl mercaptan and gasoline and polytetrafluoroethylene." Maura paused, lost in the memory.

"I thought I heard Jane's voice," she continued, "so I went to look for her- it felt like an hour but I'm sure it was only five minutes. Then I saw them- Jane and the girl. They were both pinned under a beam, Jane's leg and the girl's torso. I checked the girl's vitals- she was nearly dead, part of her occipital lobe was showing through her cranium. Jane was yelling to take the girl outside but I knew that statistically speaking, no medical attention could have saved her life. So I grabbed the beam and moved it enough to get to Jane and pull her outside. I was going to go back for the girl but the fire department arrived and they wouldn't let anyone else go inside."

The horror on Angela's face barely registered with Maura.

"Shit," Frankie breathed. He left the room rapidly.

Angela pulled Maura into a crushing embrace, startling Maura. She'd let a twelve-year old girl die today. Angela should have been revolted.

"Thank you," Angela whispered, and it sounded guilty.

Maura pulled back to read the other woman's face in the hopes it would help her decipher the meaning behind the tone.

"You saved my daughter's life today," Angela explained. "What you did was heroic and tragic and no one should ever have to make a choice like that. But you saved my Janie's life and I will be forever grateful for that."

"Jane doesn't think it was heroic," Maura mumbled, feeling the exhaustion from the day closing in around her.

"Because she's selfless," Angela responded. "And sometimes that manifests itself in a very selfish way."

"She would have saved the girl," Maura asserted softly. "If our situations were reversed."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Angela shook her head. "I think that's probably part of the reason she's so angry."

"I don't understand," Maura's brow furrowed.

"Jane loves you, Maura," Angela explained. "Today she realized you love her too. And now she's terrified, wondering about all the situations where it will change her actions or her words or her opinions. She'd pick you too, and that's dangerous to her. It makes her vulnerable."

"I'd have taken the girl," Maura's lip quivered. "But I wasn't strong enough to get them both, and that girl wasn't going to live. Did Jane expect me to sacrifice her life for nothing?"

Angela put a comforting hand over Maura's, squeezing.

"She'll come around when she's ready to see the truth," she assured Maura.

"I have to see her," Maura rubbed angrily at her eyes, ignoring her mother's voice in the back of her head telling her it would make her skin age faster.

"Maybe you should give her a little space," Angela hedged.

"I know I should," Maura cried. "But I need to see her. She's my best friend, and I'm hurting and I want my friend to comfort me. I know that she won't, that she isn't even talking to me but I don't have anyone else."

Maura felt instantly ashamed and tried to back track. Angela had taken her in with no questions asked and she was insulting her kindness.

"That's alright," Angela saved Maura. "I'm not Jane, that's for sure." She smiled softly and Maura wished she could return the gesture but there was no room for even a false smile among the quagmire of her anguish.

"I should go," Maura swallowed harshly, acutely aware of the fatigue settling over her like a straightjacket.

"Did you drive here?" Angela's concern was evident.

"No," Maura shook her head. "I took a cab… Oh."

"I'll have Frankie take you," the other woman offered. She slipped out of the room and Maura began to gather her things. Angela reappeared a moment later, a frown on her face.

Maura's heart clenched.

"Frankie left," Angela admitted. "Said he had something really important to do."

"I'll just get a cab," Maura mumbled, absently fingering her still-wet clothes.

"Nonsense," Angela shook her head. "I'll drive you. And you're not putting on those wet clothes so put them in this bag and let's go."

They got into the car and Angela turned on the heat at full blast. Maura hadn't realized she'd been shivering. Absently, she wondered what it must have been like to grow up with a mother like this. Someone so caring and attentive and involved.

At a red light, Angela reached over and gently patted Maura's knee.

Maura wondered if Jane would be such a tactile, loving mother. The mental question was fleeting, but the answer was resounding.

Of course.

Jane would be a fantastic mother. The perfect mix of cautious and carefree. She'd give her children roots, but also the courage to fly.

The rain pattered lightly against the car as they drove and Maura found herself lulled almost to sleep. She was startled when they pulled up in front of Jane's apartment. Angela looked at her with concern and, Maura realized, love.

"I can wait if you'd like," she offered.

Maura swallowed harshly, drawn to the light in Jane's apartment window like a moth to a flame.

"Thank you Angela," she replied. "But I'll be alright."

"You call me," Angela ordered gently.

Impulsively, Maura turned in her seat and hugged Angela briefly.

"We could call it even," Maura's gaze fixed on the door to Jane's building.

"Hmm?" Angela asked.

"We could call it even," Maura repeated, a little louder. "I may have saved Jane's life today, but she has saved me every day since the moment we met. So perhaps we could consider the debts cancelled out."

Angela's eyes glistened and the two women sat silently for a while, observing the building in front of them and lost in private thoughts.

Eventually, Maura opened the door and climbed out. The rain had cooled the fall evening even further, and she shivered, her damp hair worsening the chill.

Jane didn't answer when Maura buzzed, nor when she called, nor when she texted. Maura began to doubt the plan she'd made, which basically went something like- Jane answers the door, Maura grabs her legs and doesn't let go until Jane agrees not to hate her.

But it sort of hinged on Jane answering the door.

A neighbor exited the building and Maura slipped inside, making her way to Jane's apartment. She was reluctant to use her key, to violate Jane's privacy, when she was so obviously on such precarious ground.

She knocked on Jane's door, her breath held. For a minute, she thought Jane might not be home. Then she heard it, faint but definitely there- shuffling, rustling, someone approaching the door.

And then Jane was standing in front of her, hands on hips, eyes dark and fierce. Maura couldn't meet her gaze. Seeing the hatred in Jane's eyes forced her to shy away like magnets being pushed apart by similar poles.

"What?" Jane finally barked, when Maura couldn't find her voice.

"May I speak with you?" Maura blurted.

"You are speaking," Jane retorted. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Then please," Maura begged. "Just listen." She reached forward to touch Jane but the other woman jumped back, a visceral shirking that jarred the table next to the door with the force of her movement.

It affected Maura like a slap to the face. She stumbled backwards slightly.

Her chest feet like it was caving in on itself.

"If you'd just let me explain," she whispered, knowing her tears were threatening to fall but being unable to stop it.

"Explain what?" Jane snapped. "How you let a little girl die because your robotic brain told you I was the better odds?"

"She was going to die," Maura shouted, startling them both. Her arms waived wildly as she spoke. "She was almost dead anyways. Her occipital lobe was protruding through her cranium, Jane! What was I supposed to do? Let you die so you wouldn't feel guilty?"

Jane's eyes widened and Maura tried to control her breathing. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, tears staining her face.

Jane looked like a wild animal, teetering on the verge of the fight/flight instinct. Maura couldn't guess which way she was going to fall.

"Fuck!" Jane yelled. "You could have saved her. You should have picked her! She was twelve- you let a little girl die because of me! How could you do that Maura? How am I supposed to live with that?"

"Stop!" Maura interrupted harshly, stepping forward to try once again to touch Jane. She was used to feeling the other woman's skin in times of turmoil- a hug, a hand on the shoulder, a squeeze of her hand.

Now, she needed the contact more than she needed food or water, and the ferocity of her need scared her.

Jane stepped back, and Maura used the space to slip into the apartment, shutting the door behind them.

Despite being in the middle of the open space, Jane looked cornered.

Maura stepped towards her and Jane evaded her touch. Maura advanced again, this time grabbing Jane's wrist. Jane was larger and stronger, and could have broken the grip without trouble, but for some reason she didn't.

Holding Jane's wrist, Maura stepped closer to Jane's body. She tilted her head down, her forehead almost resting on Jane's shoulder.

"Stop," Maura repeated on a soft sigh. "I couldn't have saved her. She couldn't have been saved. And if I had left you there, not only would she have died, but we would have too."

"Not _we_," Jane corrected bitterly, and Maura's head snapped up, her eyes meeting Jane's.

Maura began to cry more fully, couldn't stop the emotion from overflowing, but her voice was firm, almost sharp.

"_We_," she bit out. "Because if you think for one fucking second that I would have just left you in there to die, you're more delusional than I thought."

Maura's deep growl, the cursing, the darkness in her eyes- it combined to cut through the haze of anger around Jane.

Her lip quivered, and Maura saw the first signs of sadness begin to leak out from under the cloak of her anger.

"I'll do whatever it takes to get you to forgive me," Maura softened. "I love you."

She wrapped her arms around Jane's waist and tucked her head up against her neck. Jane didn't reciprocate the embrace but Maura held fast.

Tears were still rolling down Maura's cheeks and she felt the weight of her confessions pressing down on her shoulders. She slid to the floor, kneeling, her arms still wrapped around Jane's waist but her forehead resting against the other woman's stomach.

Jane was crying now, softly, her hands clutched at her sides. Maura held tightly, her voice a rasp against Jane's shirt.

"You're my best friend," she sobbed. "I know you're angry, I know you hate me, but I have nowhere else to go. No one else to turn to- no one I _want_ to turn to. I'm tired and hurt and I just want my best friend to make it all better. And how am I supposed to get that, Jane? You hate me and I still want to just sit at your feet until you forgive me because at least then I'll be close to you and maybe it won't hurt quite so badly."

"I don't hate you," Jane's voice was barely recognizable. She put a firm hand in Maura's hair but didn't stop crying. "I'm just so… angry, Maura. And it hurts, and that girl died instead of me and how can I deny this now?"

Maura tried to follow, to keep up, but she was drained in every way and Jane wasn't making sense.

"Jane?" she asked.

Jane fell to her knees unceremoniously, pulling Maura into a crushing embrace.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry… I'm sorry." Jane's voice was a chant, a mantra, and it seemed to go on forever.

Maura began to worry, began to fear that something far worse than Jane's hatred was building a wall between them.

Guilt.

Jane's hands were tangled in Maura's clothes, holding her close. Maura's hands clutched desperately at Jane's back, unwilling to relax for even a second for fear that she might pull away.

"Please don't leave," Maura asked, surprised by her own seemingly odd request.

Jane leaned back, trying to look at Maura's face, but Maura resisted, burying her face in Jane's wild curls.

"Ok," Jane's rumbling voice finally replied. "Ok."

For a long time they remained on the floor, still except for their breathing and the occasional sniffle. Eventually the physical toll of the day began to revolt against Jane, and she groaned in discomfort.

"Oh," Maura gasped. "I'm sorry! You shouldn't be sitting like this." She stood up awkwardly, allowing Jane to do the same. When Jane took stock of Maura, she shied away from the gaze.

"What are you wearing?" Jane finally asked.

Maura looked down at herself. She had on a _Rizzoli and Sons_ sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants- Jane's she belatedly realized. And a pair of Angela's hunter green rain boots.

"I went to your parent's house," Maura admitted, flushing in shame. She should not have taken refuge in the place meant to shelter and protect Jane from the world.

"I know," Jane replied. She hesitated, as if unsure whether she should add the next thing. "Frankie came to see me."

Maura's eyes widened and she met Jane's unreadable gaze. A thousand questions came to mind but she silenced them all.

"He uh," Jane continued, as Maura had hoped she would. "He said some stuff about you that I didn't want to believe."

"What?" Maura cleared her throat. "What sort of things?"

"That you were sorry," Jane began. Maura wanted to jump in and corroborate but she got the impression Jane was building to something bigger so she allowed her to continue. "That you were upset. That you were hurting too. That I was being an ass."

Maura found a small grin, despite it all, tilting her lips up. She could imagine the younger Rizzoli squared off against his sister, telling her in no uncertain terms what he thought about the whole situation.

"He said you love me," Jane finished softly.

Maura opened her mouth to reassure Jane of the truth of that statement, to agree most fervently, but the look on Jane's face gave her pause.

Oh.

Maura was guessing- a messy, uncomfortable business, but her postulation was that Jane meant _in love_ as opposed to the more conventional, familial, _love._

It left her at a loss as to how to respond. Jane's statement had been neutral, giving Maura no indication what Jane was expecting, what she wanted or felt or how she might respond to any one of the possible responses forming in Maura's mind.

"He was correct," Maura responded evenly.

The two women stood opposite each other, oddly adversarial. Maura began to feel somewhat ridiculous. Given the events of the day, her sobbing tirade earlier, and the history of their friendship, she thought her feelings should be rather obvious.

While Jane's feelings were something of a mystery to Maura, Maura was certain of her own feelings. She was in love with Jane.

She'd put into action the typically over-romanticized and often overplayed, _I'd die for you_ by literally dragging her friend out of a burning building, risking her own life to pull Jane out.

Beyond that though, she was there in the ways that mattered, beside Jane every day to support and encourage and assist in whatever way she could. She cared about Jane deeply, and did her best to show it.

It just took her a little while to realize it was love.

She wondered if it was strange or insulting that Frankie had figured it out before Jane.

"Maura," Jane rasped, the gravelly scrape of her voice against Maura's skin making Maura's eyes flutter closed. Her tone said, _sorry._

There it was again.

Guilt.

Jane was sorry. She didn't love Maura.

And why should she? No one else did.

"Don't," Maura shook her head, eyes still closed. "Please don't. I can't take it, not tonight. Not after everything that happened today. Not after I… after all that we've… just don't, Jane. I'll figure out some way to work this out but I can't tonight. So please, don't try to make it better."

Jane's brow furrowed ever so slightly and Maura steeled herself. She had to leave. She had to go home and she had absolutely no energy. She honestly didn't think she could make it.

"You're exhausted," Jane asserted. "And still cold." Jane grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it around Maura's shoulders.

Maura swallowed, trying to inhale a calming breath through her nose.

Wordlessly, Jane steered Maura towards her bedroom, and Maura felt the relief weaken her knees. Without even turning the light on, Jane guided Maura to the bed and barely had a chance to turn down the comforter before Maura collapsed onto the jersey sheets.

Staring down at her, Jane studied Maura for a long minute before turning to go.

"No," Maura's voice was soft and meek. She put a gentle hand on Jane's wrist. "Please don't go." Her words from earlier echoed, taking on an entirely different meaning in the new context.

Jane nodded and brushed Maura's hair out of her face.

"I'll be right back," she promised.

Maura closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of Jane's room, her sheets. She felt the exhaustion tugging at her but she resisted until Jane returned.

Slipping into the bed, Jane laid immobile on her side of the mattress. Maura could feel the heat from the other woman, could feel the nearly-imperceptible tremble in her own body from the nerves and the cold and the exhaustion.

A second later, she rolled until she was flush against Jane.

Something had happened between them tonight, and Maura suspected she was losing Jane in an entirely different way than she had contemplated outside the Rizzoli family home. A way that was going to tear her apart just as completely.

Maura figured if she was going to burn alive, she might as well throw herself head first into the blaze.

She wrapped an arm around Jane, resting her head over Jane's heart. She tangled their legs together, ignoring the way Jane's body stiffened under her.

Eventually, Jane relaxed, and one arm snuck under Maura to wrap around her shoulders, the other stroking through her hair.

Outside, the rain softened, but thunder in the distance portended the coming of a storm worse than the one preceding it.

Maura felt the way that the false calm resounded through Jane's bedroom.

She burrowed into the circle of Jane's arms, burying her face in Jane's neck.

"Tighter," she whispered.

Jane tightened her hold on Maura's body.

Maura felt safe, comfortable, and yet distinctly uneasy. This was where she wanted to be- where she belonged. But Jane clearly did not agree.

It wasn't the first time Maura had fallen for a friend, but she'd never before fallen so hard, and never for someone like Jane.

She'd never _had_ a friend like Jane before. There was simply no comparison.

"Tighter," Maura repeated softly.

Jane threw a leg over both of Maura's, practically smothering the smaller woman.

Jane was like something out of a novel, out of a movie, out of her wildest fantasies. She was fierce, ethereal, gorgeous, courageous, intelligent, bold.

Looking at Jane made Maura feel a sense of peace and a tormenting confusing swirl of desire at the same time.

She wanted Jane. _Needed _her.

She had no idea how to convince Jane that they were meant to be together.

And now it seemed like she wouldn't even get a chance to try.

"Tighter," Maura's voice was nearly inaudible.

Pulling as tightly as she dared, Jane enveloped Maura's small frame between her and the bed.

Jane was holding her tightly, but emotionally the distance between them was an impassable chasm.

Maura wondered what it would take to traverse the space between them, to close the distance between their hearts and bring them together in the way she knew they belonged.

She wondered if she was even capable of bridging that gap.

Wondered if Jane would allow it.

"Don't let me go," Maura whispered in the dark.

Jane trembled softly against her.

"I won't," she promised.


	2. Chapter 2

When Maura awoke in the middle of the night, Jane was gone.

Maura padded into the living room, heart in her throat.

For good measure she checked the bathroom. The kitchen.

Empty.

Empty, empty, empty.

It was useless.

Jane was gone.

She had promised not to let go.

Promised.

But she had run.

Left her own apartment in the middle of the night just to get away from Maura.

From her love.

Maura was so overcome by visceral emotions that she went entirely numb in seconds. The pain was too much to process, and like a victim of physical trauma she simply went into shock.

Her body and brain couldn't assimilate the pain shooting through her, lighting every nerve ending aflame, so her body just shut down.

Reduced her to basic functioning, basic thought.

She had to flee.

_Run._

Go.

First, and foremost, she had to leave Jane's apartment and never come back.

She found her purse and departed Jane's apartment with heavy steps. Outside, the air bit at her harshly, and if she'd been thinking rationally, or thinking at all, she would have considered borrowing a coat.

As it was, her ears and nose went numb within minutes. Her fingers trembled. The cold seemed to seep straight into her bones and settle there.

The streets were empty, not a cab in sight, so she set about walking home. It was only a matter of miles but the distance felt interminable. Trudging along in Angela's rain boots, feeling in her limbs further eluding her with each minute that passed, Maura wondered how she would ever face Jane now.

She would have to request a transfer. Maybe leave BPD. Perhaps even leave Boston.

Maura could live with not having her love returned. She had done it before. But she would never survive having to hide it, to pretend, day in and day out for the rest of her life, that it didn't exist.

She was the world's worst liar, after all. And the pain would be too much to bear.

So she'd leave.

Manhattan. Los Angeles. D.C.

She would start over.

Learn how to be alone again.

It was the only option.

Jane had abandoned her.

Left her.

Given up.

Just like everyone else.

She had promised she wouldn't let go.

_Promised._

And Maura, foolishly, had believed her.

She had believed.

Because if anyone deserved her trust, her hope, her faith… it was Jane.

Right?

No one else had ever worked so hard, worked at all really, to penetrate Maura's defenses. No one else had cared enough to see past her social awkwardness, to embrace the woman under her quirky exterior.

No one else had made her feel human.

Jane had. And she'd made it seem so easy.

Now, it all seemed so… _false._

How could Maura have been so wrong?

She'd never put much faith in people, before. Never put much stock in an individual human being's capacity to surprise her, to fulfill her.

People were weak, fallible, selfish, unpredictable…

They were biologically predisposed to hurt each other, to lie, to cheat, to compete, to err.

Why would she rely on something like that?

Even with good intentions, people couldn't be trusted to overcome their baser instincts.

Her parents were proof of that.

Trying to do something honorable when it went against your very nature didn't make you brave or strong or different than everyone else. It just made you vulnerable to failure.

Now, more than ever, she was reminded of that.

Oh god.

She'd never make it home.

She was too tired.

Sitting on the curb, Maura buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She cried for endless minutes, alone and freezing on the side of the road.

She had heard the expression, _all time low_, but it hadn't been clear what was meant.

She knew now.

This was rock bottom.

A car pulled up beside her and Maura felt fear tighten the pit of her stomach. She was in an incredibly vulnerable position for attack. It was foolish to allow herself to fall apart like this, in the middle of the night, on a deserted street…

"Excuse me?" a young, tentative female voice greeted her from inside the car. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Maura sobbed. "Thank you."

The driver stepped out slowly, as if afraid she might scare Maura away.

"Can I call someone for you?" she offered. "Or get you a cab or something?"

"I'm really alright," Maura managed to stop crying momentarily. She looked up into wide, compassionate blue eyes. "But thank you."

"I can't just leave you here," the girl protested. "You'll freeze to death. Please, I could give you a ride into town. There's a 24 hour shelter…"

"I'm not homeless," Maura sniffed. "I'm just having a rather rough evening."

"I didn't mean to imply," the girl blushed. "Sorry. I just don't want to leave you out here. It's not safe."

Maura was too tired to argue. Was too tired even to weigh the rationality of getting in a car with this stranger.

"I don't live too far from here," she admitted. "Would you give me a ride home?"

"Yeah," came the reply. A small smile graced her delicate features as she offered her hand to help Maura up. "Sure, no problem."

Maura accepted the hand, sliding into the passenger seat. The girl resumed her place behind the wheel and looked over at Maura expectantly.

"I'm Stephanie," she smiled. "Where to?"

"I'm Maura," she returned, rattling off her address.

They rode in silence through the wintry, Boston streets. It was only a matter of minutes before they were outside Maura's home.

"Look," Stephanie hedged. "I'm sure this is none of my business, and it's probably way out of line but… this is my phone number. If you need a friend, you know, someone to talk to- you can call me. I'm pretty normal."

Maura couldn't manage a fake smile but she took the card.

"I'm Maura," she whispered. "Thank you for the ride."

"You're sure that you'll be ok?"

"No," Maura stepped out of the car. "But I don't really have a choice."

"There's always a choice," Stephanie countered softly. "People always do what they want to do. Everything else is just an excuse."

Wordlessly, Maura entered her home.

She was too tired to turn on lights, to lock the door behind herself.

Too tired to care.

She crawled into bed, wrapping the blankets around herself like a protective cocoon and sobbed until a merciful, restless sleep overtook her.

The reprieve didn't last long, and she was awake as the morning sun peeked into her bedroom.

The idea of leaving her bed was unfathomable.

If not for the insistence of her bladder, she might never have gotten up. As it was, she practically crawled into the bathroom. Before returning to the safety of her bed, she appraised herself in the mirror.

She looked as hollow as she felt.

Like someone had reached inside her and turned out the light.

Empty.

Vacant, listless nothingness reflected back at her.

She crawled back into bed.

An absent part of her mind wondered if her heart was even beating. She took her own pulse, just to be sure.

It didn't comfort her at all.

Stephanie's words rang in her head.

_There's always a choice._

Maura's chest tightened.

There had been a choice, but Jane had chosen to run.

She had chosen anyone else but Maura.

Not Maura.

And why shouldn't she?

Maura was awkward and socially inept and she talked too much and misread body language and didn't know anything about sports or beer or the bro code. She had spent countless hours researching the things Jane liked in order to be a part of the other woman's life but it was difficult.

So much of Jane was about instinct, guessing, things Maura couldn't research or fake.

It was no wonder Jane wouldn't want to love someone like her.

But…

Maura had thought she saw something in Jane's eyes.

For the past few weeks, she'd tried to be as clinical as possible when evaluating Jane's expressions, body language.

There was something there- she was sure of it.

Jane's body exhibited signs it was dispersing monoamines when in Maura's presence. The dopamine, norepinephrine and serotonin combination produced shortness of breath and sweating. Her body turned towards Maura when they spoke. Her pupils dilated when she looked at Maura. Her pulse raced.

The body didn't lie.

Which meant the only conclusion to be drawn was _mind over matter._

Jane was attracted to her but choosing not to pursue her.

Which meant to Jane, Maura wasn't enough.

Not enough.

It was something she was used to.

People were always leaving her, abandoning her, because she wasn't enough.

But Jane…

She never thought Jane would be one of those people.

She would have bet her car, her career, _her life_ that Jane would not abandon her.

How foolish that would have been.

As it was, she'd bet her heart and she'd lost.

Now she had to live with the consequences.

Only she didn't know how.

How did one live with the consequences of putting all their stock in a single person and finding out they'd made a one-sided trade?

She needed to talk to someone, to ask the questions and receive some answers, but she had no one to turn to.

Normally it was Jane who filled in the gaps in her understanding, who bridged the chasm between Maura's intellect and the realities of the world.

Who would do that for her now?

Maura startled when the front door opened. Her heart clenched, her entire body froze.

No.

_No_.

"Maura?" Angela's voice rang out.

Angela?

"In here," Maura called back, surprised by how rasping and needy her voice sounded.

A minute later Angela was poking her head into the room.

"Oh, sweetie," she cooed. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Maura sniffed, trying to hold back tears.

"Maura," Angela sat on the bed, stroking a hand through Maura's hair.

Maura shuddered, allowed her tears to fall.

"Jane hates me," she exclaimed.

"No," Angela soothed. "She doesn't. She loves you, Maura."

"She left me," Maura protested. "She promised and then she left."

Angela's other hand found Maura's, clutching it tightly.

"I know," Angela admitted quietly. "She came to see me."

Maura's brow furrowed.

"In the middle of the night," Angela continued.

Maura tried to assimilate this information.

Jane had run… to her mother?

"She's scared, Maura."

"What?" Maura looked up at Angela's face. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" Angela replied.

"I don't know," Maura sighed. "I don't understand this at all."

"You've been in love before, Maura," Angela challenged. "Haven't you?"

"Not like this," Maura whispered. "Maybe not at all. If this is what love feels like then this is the first time I've ever been in love."

Angela's hand reflexively tightened around Maura's.

"Why doesn't Jane want me?" she added softly.

"Oh, Maura," Angela's voice wavered. "Sweetie that's not… that's not the problem."

"She left," Maura protested, sniffling. "And why shouldn't she? She could have so much more."

"Hey," Angela's voice was sharp. "Stop that. You are wonderful and Jane would be lucky to have you. Anyone would. Did it occur to you that she might think _she's_ not good enough?"

"What?" Maura asked. "Why would she think that? Jane is amazing. I've never met anyone like her."

"Self-worth has never been her strong point," Angela shrugged. "She's confident when it comes to everything but her heart. She keeps that locked up for some reason. The loves in her life haven't fought very hard for her. But Maura, honey, you're the one who broke through."

"She left," Maura repeated hoarsely. "I asked her not to, but she did."

"She didn't _leave,_" Angela refuted. "She… went temporarily insane."

"It ends the same," Maura breathed. "Maura Isles, alone."

"You can't forgive her?" Angela sounded surprised, hurt.

"She doesn't want my forgiveness," Maura responded. "She wants my friendship. But I don't know how to give her that without giving her my love as well. They're one and the same, it seems, and I don't know how to fix that."

"You have to talk to her," Angela insisted. "You have to be honest with her. She's too afraid to jump to any conclusions. You have to say, _Jane, I'm in love with you_. Or she won't get it. My daughter is smart but she's also so dense."

"I said _I love you_," Maura protested. "It didn't matter."

"That's not the same thing," Angela urged softly. "And I think you know that. You've been saying _I love you_ practically since the day you met. This is more than that, and if you want her to realize there is a difference you'll have to point it out."

"What if she still says no?" Maura's voice was full of fear. Terror.

"She won't," Angela assured her.

"But what if she does," Maura replied. "What will I do?"

"Then you'll know," Angela sighed. "Once and for all. And I'll know to kick her butt to kingdom come."

"You don't have to do this," Maura whispered.

"Do what?" Angela wiped a lingering tear from Maura's cheek.

"Come here," Maura said. "Do this."

Angela tilted Maura's chin up, forcing her to make eye contact.

"Maura Isles," she began, her voice firm. "No matter what happens, _no matter what_, I love you. I may not be your mother, and you may not really consider me a friend, but you're like a daughter to me. A friend. I will always be here for you to talk to or cry with or laugh with. _I _will always be here for you, regardless."

Tears welled in Maura's eyes again, spilling over. She sat up and embraced Angela tightly.

"Thank you," she breathed. "I love you."

"I love you too," Angela's watery voice replied. "You're a very special woman. I'm blessed to have you. We all are."

Maura nodded unsurely against Angela's shoulder.

"Now," Angela pulled back. "Come to the kitchen. I'll make you something to eat."

Maura almost protested, almost climbed back under the covers to hide.

But she couldn't hide forever.

Not when there was hope, however fleeting and miniscule.

_There's always a choice._


End file.
